Bood Ties
by Kalder-maaren
Summary: Another Witchblade connection finds Sara Pezzini. This time, she may have found an ally. Sorry about the delay. I couldn't upload last time I tried. - Please review, I appreciate the commentary. Makes me feel it's worth my while to write.
1. Another night, another dream

None of the Witchblade stuff is mine. It just got my brain working and the story came out. The only thing I will claim is Adrienne, and her order. They are the fruits of my noodle. Hey, I'm just a fan who can't live on weekly 50 minute doses alone. Pity me, if anything. I aim only to entertain my fellows, and not to infringe on anyone else's copyrights etc., or to offend anyone. Reviews are welcome.  
  
Kalder-maaren  
Blood Ties  
R-Violence, Adult situations  
Based on show, haven't got my hands on the comics yet  
Sara finds out that she has more than just a ghost looking out for her.  
  
Chapter 1: Another dream, Another mystery.  
  
Sara Pezzini Thrashed in her sleep, the red stone of the witchblade glowing brightly in the dark of the room. The same dream came to her again and again. Sometimes there were pieces missing, sometimes there was something new, but it was always the same scene.  
The cave was lit unevenly; firelight dancing on the walls and seeming to animate the symbols set there in stone. Near the center of the cavern stood a group of robed figures. They stood around something. Her viewpoint changing drastically, Sara looked down on the group from above. She could see a shallow metal dish laid on a rough stone table; symbols like those on the wall drawn on the table around the dish. The first time, the dream ended there.  
The next night there was sound- the figures chanting. Occasionally one voice would take over, and the others respond. Tonight there was more still.  
Tonight the figures had faces; blurred, but recognizably human. And there was blood on the hands of each as they rested them, palms up, on the table, fingers pointing to the central dish. The chanting intensified, and the sense of power in the space built until Sara felt she would suffocate. Abruptly, it abated.  
The cave was dark now, unlit and cold. No one stood by the table on which the bracelet, the witchblade sat where the dish had been. Gone too were the symbols on the table. It seemed that Sara's dream-self was the only being there. Then, from the darkest shadows at the back of the cave a form emerged. It was a moment before Sara could make out the likeness of a young woman, dark-haired and clad in gray robes.  
Somehow, Sara was sure that this girl had not been one of the figures in her earlier vision. Coming closer, she was puzzled by the girl's face. In the dim witchlight that accompanied her appearance, Sara could tell she was fair skinned and pretty, her features curved but not blunted. She might have been as young as sixteen. But when Sara looked into her blue-grey eyes she could see centuries hidden.  
Hand out-stretched, the girl smiled and opened her mouth to speak.  
The telephone jarred Sara from the dream. Startled, sleepy, and still half mesmerized, Sara grabbed the receiver and spoke in a choked sort of whisper. "Who are you?"  
A nervous chuckle on the other end of the line greeted her.   
"Ah, ummm, Pez. It's Jake? Are you ok?" Sara recovered herself quickly.  
"Yeah. Sorry. I was.. . Having a weird dream. T'sall. Uh, Jake?"  
"Yeah?"  
"It's five fifteen in the morning."  
"I know Pez. But I wanted to make sure I caught you. In case we couldn't talk later."  
"This better be damned important."  
"Sorry, but it is."  
"Ok then. Shoot."  
"I know you hate me tagging along and you must have your reasons and all that, but for your own sake, you gotta bring me in."  
"I ...I'm sorry Jake. I try-" He interrupted her.  
"No. Listen. When you skip out, Dante gives me the 3rd degree. He wants to get you on something, Pez, and he'll use me if he can. You really gotta watch your back."  
"Jake-"  
"I don't know why it is you keep me at such a distance, but please, try at least to make this look like a regular training relationship. I want Dante off my back, and I'm afraid one of these days I'll slip up and won't be able to cover for you."  
"I really am sorry Jake, for making things hard for you. And I appreciate you keeping the dogs off me. I promise I'll do better."  
"Thanks, Sara. That's all I ask."  
  



	2. Deja Vu

Sara's thoughts turned to her belligerent superior, and she headed for the fridge, having forgotten her dream for the time being.  
Standing in front of his office window, Kenneth Irons frowned, looked down on the scar on his hand, and then pursed his lips. He turned then to face the black clad figure of Ian Nottingham who was standing motionless next to Irons' desk, his head bowed. Irons walked around the other side and sat down at the desk. "Watch her. And those in contact with her. Very closely. Especially anyone...new. And on no account interfere; merely report back to me."  
Nottingham didn't move. Irons looked up slightly and waved a hand dismissively. "That is all. Go." Silently Nottingham left the office.  
Sara had seated herself at her desk and was reorganizing a case file when her partner walked in. He handed her a coffee, and set another one down on his desk before going to hang up his coat. Sara stared at the cup in front of her, then at Jake. "You got me coffee?"  
Jake looked slightly sheepish. "Yeah, well, I figured you'd need it after I woke you up so early." Sara smiled slightly, then grinned. She reached across the desks and tapped Jake's Coffee cup with her own.  
"Cheers."  
Jake smiled and relaxed. As he sat down, Sara handed him the file she had been looking at. "Seen this one yet?"  
"Ah, yeah. But where are all the photos?"  
"Oh. We had to move some stuff around a while back. Nasty leak. Water damage. The leak was fixed, but the filing system never recovered. These...maybe archived? I'll go check. Sara picked up a list from the folder, her coffee, and left Jake pouring over the file.  
Several minutes later, there was a noise and a knock at the office door. Outside near a back staircase Ian Nottingham looked up, unobserved. Jake didn't turn his head right away as the door behind him opened. "Find them already, Pez? Where-"  
He was cut off by the woman at the door clearing her throat. Swiveling his chair toward the sound, Jake found himself looking at the desk clerk standing nervously in the doorway.  
"Ah, there's a woman here to see Det. Pezzini. That is, she wants to set up an appointment to see her. Said it was very important, didn't want to do it over the phone..."  
She trailed off and looked uncertainly at Jake. He shrugged. "Did she say what it was about?"  
"No. No, she didn't. She came in and asked if Miss Sara Pezzini worked here. I told her yes, Detective Sara Pezzini, and she said that it was very important that she make an appointment to see her as soon as possible. I asked if another officer might help her, but she said no, it was Sara Pezzini she needed to speak with. I told her I'd see what I could do. It's rather unusual..." She trailed off uncertainly again.  
"It's ok. Send her in. I'll talk to her, and Detective Pezzini will be back shortly." The woman at the door nodded, left, and then returned leading a rather small statured woman in a long dress-coat.   
"Just in here," the desk clerk murmured.  
"Thank you." And then the woman leaving closed the door.  
Jake took a few seconds to take in his visitor while she occupied herself removing her gloves. He judged her to be about five foot two, well dressed, and from the fitted tailoring of her coat he thought she might cut a nice figure. Beyond this he could tell very little, for she was wearing a dark shawl on her head as a hood and it obscured any view of her hair or face.  
Jake stood up and held out his hand. "Detective Jake McCarty. Please, sit down." He indicated a chair by the windows.  
I She accepted his handshake with one hand and with her other pulled back her hood. "Adrienne Farrell, thank you." Now that he could get a good look at her, Jake was a little surprised. He had expected someone older; perhaps because of the shawl. However, he found himself shaking a hand adorned with sky-blue nail polish, and the removal of the shawl revealed a nice looking young woman, almost girlish.  
Adrienne sat down by the window and Jake was about to ask what he could do to help her, when she herself began speaking. Her voice was clear and pleasant but unmistakably earnest. "I really am sorry to bother you like this. I only meant to leave a message with someone to have Miss Pezzini meet with me. I'm afraid I'm inconveniencing you terribly. But please, it was never my intention to interrupt your work." She smiled apologetically.  
Jake returned her smile. "Don't worry about it. Detective Pezzini will be back in a minute. I'm her partner. Maybe you could tell me what it is you want to see her about?" As he said this, Adrienne's face went from shocked and pale (and she was fair to begin with) to bright pink and distressed.  
"She's here? Oh, I didn't think I'd be able to see her now. Oh damn. This'll be a nasty shock. I should leave. I didn't know, they just told me to ask here... Oh!"  
"Calm down. I'm sure you'll be able to clear all this up when Pezzini gets back."  
Just then, Sara entered, carrying a pile of folders and envelopes. Jake turned toward her. "Hey Pez, you got a visitor. Adri-" He stopped as he watched his partner drop everything she had been holding. Her face registered shock, uncertainty, and, strangely enough, recognition.   
Sara Pezzini had walked through her office door to find herself facing her dream in the flesh. The girl in the office was somehow the same as the one who had been at the back of the cave. There were differences, of course; this girl was wearing ordinary clothes, not ceremonial robes, and her dark hair was cut short and streaked, while in the cave it had been a mass of braids intertwined with silver. But the stature and the face were the same, the same curved features, the same ivory skin, the same dark eyes. At least, some part of Sara's mind told her, theses eyes had no wild, ageless depth to them.   
Jake looked from his partner to the stranger, noting that she too had dropped her things (having risen hastily) though she looked far more composed than Sara.  
Sara dropped to her knees to retrieve the papers she had dropped. Across the room, Adrienne bent her head. "I'm very sorry. I didn't intend for us to meet like this. But of course, 'the best laid plans of...' Well, nevermind. I understand if you need a while to, um, take things in. Perfectly all right. This is where I can be reached if you decide to contact me." Adrienne stepped forward and placed a card on the desk right as Sara finished picking up. She took the card and left the papers in a messy pile.  
"No. No, please. I do want to talk with you. anytime you like. Now, if you want. We could get coffee." All this was blurted out in a half baked attempt to extricate herself from the questioning stare of her partner.  
Looking up, Adrienne allowed herself a nervous smile. "Really? Now? Only if you can spare the time?"  
"It's fine. Honestly." Sara smiled reassuringly "If you wait outside, I'll be with you in a second and we'll go."  
"All right." Adrienne picked up her gloves and bag from the floor and moved to the door. "It's been a pleasure Detective McCarty." She smiled and nodded at Jake before shutting the door behind her.  
"Pez? What the hell is up?!" Jake demanded. Sara sat down heavily and covered her eyes with her blade hand.  
"I don't know Jake. I..." The image of her parents with a strange girl interrupted her thoughts for a split second. "I think it has something to do with my parents." She looked up and held Jake's eyes. "I have to find out. It's...Jake, just come by my place tonight with that case file and the stuff I brought out. We'll go over the case and I promise I will try to explain the other...thing."  
"Pez, Sara..."  
"Please Jake. This could be nothing, or it could be a chance I never get again."  
Jake looked at her hard. She was in earnest, and the faint note of pleading in her voice was genuine. " Ok. Tonight then." Sara grabbed her coat and helmet but before she opened the door she laid a hand on Jake's shoulder.  
"Jake?"  
"Yeah?" He looked up at her.   
"Thank you." And then she left.  
  
  
  



	3. Adrienne

Hey- finally some answers. I know you've been cursing me ("Kalder, that heartless bitch, writing two tantalizing lead in chapters and then leaving us hanging!") I do apologize. I have the entire story written out long hand, as computers tend to snuff out my creative juices, so the trouble has been with finding the time to type and upload. I am embarrassed to admit, that, at my best, i can manage a measley 30 wpm. So once again, sorry for the delay.  
  
And once again-the disclaimer- I made up the story and a couple of characters. The witchblade and all those charaters and backround stories and everything are not mine, nor do I lay any claim to them, other than that they give me great enjoyment.  
  
And so, without further ado- Chapter the 3rd.  
  
Neither woman spoke until they were outside the precinct building. Sara turned to her companion "If you don't mind, we could go to my apartment. Keep things more private."  
"Yes, I think that would be wise."  
"Do you have a car?"  
"Yes. Well, barely." Adrienne indicated a junk-heap parked nearby.  
"Oh. Well just trail my bike."  
"All right." Both seemed far too involved in her own troubled thoughts to notice Ian Nottingham behind them.  
Sara opened the door to her apartment and ushered Adrienne in. "Come in. Sit down. would you like something to drink? Tea?"  
"Yes, thank you. Wait, no. i don't want to put this off any more. Please, Miss Pezzini. Sara? Come and sit down." Sara sighed and sat down next to her guest.  
"What is it you want to see me about?"  
"I don't know how to start, how to say, it's too..." she handed sara some dog-eared papers. Sarah looked at them curiously.  
"These are birth certificates...what..." she found herself looking at her own adoption papers."  
"Your mother, your biological mother, is mine as well. I'm your sister. And I can help you, with, with the gauntlet." Sara laughed weakly.  
"I believe you. And I would even without these," she gestured to the papers. Sara looked up then, at Adrienne's face. "I doubt...Maybe you can explain...All I have is bits and pieces; riddles."  
"I can tell you what I know; about our family, about the power you wield, about me. It isn't much in the long run, I suppose, but I won't speak in riddles, and maybe what I say will fill in some of the blanks."  
"You said we share a mother?"  
"Yes. Your father was twenty, engaged to my... to Mother. She was seventeen and just out of highschool. I don't think he ever knew she was going to have a child; he enlisted, shipped out, and was killed before he set foot in a combat zone. A plane of paratroopers brought down.  
Mother fell apart. She wasn't all that stable to begin with. Her parents arranged to have the baby adopted, and once that was settled and you were born, Mother was sent to England to live with an aunt." Adrienne stopped, and looked up from her hands which she had been studying as she spoke. "She had visions. All her life. Of what you would become. But her mind was never strong, and it drove half mad, seeing those things, what you would be put through. She told me once how she felt so guilty, bringing you into the world to shoulder such a destiny. 'I gave her a name and a prayer,'she said. 'I knew I could never give her the strength she needed. But he could.' She meant your father, Mr. Pezzini.  
Four years later she married a Russian rigger, Alexi Grevkin. My brother Sasha was born a year later, and my sister Kata the following year. I was born four years after that. And Mother had another breakdown. It was my great-aunt who raised me, really. And she was a witch." Sara broke in.   
"I'm so sorry..."  
"No, you misunderstand. She was a practitioner of an ancient and obscure craft. She taught me- said I had been born for it. I didn't know quite what she meant then, but it didn't matter. I loved it; the images, the languages, the legends, the rituals, all of it. And she would send me abroad, to study with various friends of hers. I thought I must have been the luckiest girl, to see so much of the world and to learn so many fascinating things.   
When I was sixteen I learned of the Witchblade, and that you would wear it. I began to comprehend the purpose and importance of my arts and skills. I worked harder. Eventually I earned myself a degree in mythology from Trinity College, and from there went into bibliopolics. The following year I spent nursing my aunt, until her death.  
When I began to have visions; repetitve dreams, I knew it was time to find you. And so I have. I am humble servant to the wielder, and adoring baby sister as well."  
"Whah!? I don't know what to...where to..." But Sara knew the young woman was telling the truth. She had seen the story herself, in flashes, as she listened. Adrienne bent her head.   
"I'm sorry. It's too much," she gripped Sara's hand. And then they were both overcome by the power of the witchblade. Across the city, Kenneth Irons gripped his desk in shock. The scar on his hand reddened.  



	4. The Making

Once again, the witchblade crew doesn't belong to me. Adrienne and the Mithra'ahni do. I made up the whole ceremonial thing out of all the bits and pieces of fantasy I've read over the years. Btw, I added a little something at the end of the previous chapter, cause it didn't fit here.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Everything in the cave was clear now. The symbols made sense, the faces had definite features. And all the chanting, all the words of the ceremony could be understood.  
"Beyond Time. Beyond Space. Beyond Good. Beyond Evil. Beyond the Elements of Nature. We summon the Power that governs us.  
Justice. Compassion. Faith. Respect. These are the columns of our order. We are the Mithra'ahni, sworn to uphold the sacred balance.  
Take now our offerings. Shape with them the object that will advance Your power through history. Before You we congregate. On the alter before You, in the dish of offering: the ore of metal, the stone of earth, water of the sea. And now we add ourselves."  
The tallest of the women drew a large curved knife from the folds of her robe. She brought the blade across one palm, then the other, and handed the knife to the woman at her left. "Blood of the sorceress," her blood dripped from her hands and into the dish on the alter. The next woman repeated the actions on herself.  
"Blood of the warrior." The ritual continued around.  
"Blood of the healer...the judge....the apothecary...the necromancer...the seer... the shape-shifter...the astrologer...the voice... the keeper of words...the annointer..the keeper of songs...the keeper of the dance...the keeper of stories...the priestess."  
"Our blood. Our lives. Our power. Change it now. With the fiery hand of eternity, combine our offerings. By the will of the Mithra-ahni! By the sacred power we call! Let it be done!" Power surged through the cavern. In and through the women and then centering on the alter. The light emanating from the offering, which had by degrees been growing brighter and brighter, became unbearable, and simultaneously everyone screamed- the members of the circle, the two woman watching through the witchblade, and a chorus of disembodied voices that seemed to come from the very stones of the cave. Outside Sara Pezzini's apartment, Ian Nottingham stared through a window, transfixed.  
When the light subsided, the robed women were visibly exhausted. The one who was the priestess spoke. Her voice was thin and cracked. "Let the Guardian step forward." A robed girl who might have been Adrienne stepped out of the shadows.  
"I am ready."  
"You know your duty- to guard this place and the power it holds. You will wait for the wielder. You will know her when she comes. And when she is ready, you will add yourself."  
"I understand and accept my task, and the honor it brings me."  
  
Then there was darkness, and the tangible passage of time. A very long time. A hundred years, two hundred, longer. And then Sara watched some past version of herself enter the cave, drawn in by some unknown magnetism. She and Sara were one as the jeweled red eye of the witchblade bracelet opened and glowed. Sara's other self stopped short; caught her breath at the sight. A sound from the back of the cave tore her attention away.  
"You've come. I've been waiting. Go ahead. Put the bracelet on. It called you here." She did as the voice told. As its owner stepped forward, dim lights came up in the rough sconces of the cave walls. "I am the Guardian," the owner of the voice continued. "I will teach you to wield the power that has chosen you as its bearer.  
The voice and the figure who owned it were identical to Adrienne, but the ancient woman's eyes were strange and wild. She held out her hand, and the Wielder took it. A blur of images followed; the powers of the blade displayed and taught, the oddity of the slight girl commanding and drilling the woman.  
Then the scene slowed down again. It seemed the training was over. The two women were speaking, and gradually their voices became audible. "You have your task now, and the tool to see it done. Use it well, as I have taught you, and in turn it will serve you well. I ask that you grant me one thing before you leave."  
"Anything you ask of me, teacher." The Guardian pulled the cloth of her robes away from her neck and throat.  
"Look at me. Give me to the Blade." She pointed to the hollow at the base of her neck, above her collar bone. Sara could feel the other wielder recoil in horror at the request; she also felt the blade of the gauntlet- it was ready to do its job. The wielder backed away in disbelief. "You can't mean... No! I could never!"   
Something snapped in the guardian. Her unearthly calm shattered and she cried out. "Would you deny me? I have given you all I have and yet you will not do for me this one thing?" She looked like a mad woman.  
"You...you are my teacher, my mentor, my friend. How could I kill you?"  
"No? You would rather commit me to an earthbound hell and leave the witchblade unfinished!? More than four centuries I have waited here for you; suspended outside of time until my sworn duty was fulfilled. All these years in my living tomb, with only ghosts and visions to keep company. My blood completes the blade, and only by its stroke can I be freed. I beg you, do not condemn me to immortality." Sara stared at the tears that ran down the girlish face of the seemingly unflappable witch. She was kneeling at Sara's, at the wielder's feet now. "Please, let me leave this place."  
"I will do it. " The words came in a whisper. Sara; the wielder (the two were twisted together once more) brought the Guardian to her feet. Sara kissed the tears off her cheeks and embraced her. In kind, the witch gently kissed her student's forehead, her lips leaving behind the ringed symbol of the witchblade.  
Sara took a deep breath, trying to think only of the gauntlet and the blade she held. She brought the weapon down and pierced the throat of her willing victim. A smile played on the lips of the dying woman. As her blood poured out and she fell forward, her voice spoke a final time, from somewhere outside her body. "Thank you, Bless you. Always."  
The blade shone red with blood only briefly, and then it was clean, and there was no body on the floor, and the cave was dark.  
Sara came to herself gasping and crying. She looked to Adrienne sitting next to her and stifled a cry when she saw the blood dripping from her throat. Sara shook Adrienne until the girl's eyes moved and refocused. She was looking at Sara with a mixture of joy and adoration, tears falling freely down her face. "You have shown me so much!"  
"But, I killed you... and..."  
"No, no, you never killed me." There was a sharp rap at the door.  
"Pez, you in there?"  
"Dammit, it's Jake. We'll have to put this off til he leaves. Go to the bathroom. You're bleeding."  
"Oh yes. Oh, I am." Adrienne walked off toward the bathroom, dazed.  
  
  



	5. Strange Behavior

For the disclaimer, see one of the previous chapters. I'm tired of writing it out.  
Chapter 5  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Sara lunged for the door to let Jake in. He stared at her, and she suddenly realized that she must look like an extra from a low-budget zombie film, but it couldn't be helped.  
"Pez, I didn't think you'd have a guest...Are you sick, Sara?"  
"No, no." She pushed Jake into a chair. "Just some intense stuff. And then Adrienne got an awful bloody nose...I should check on her, she's in the bathroom cleaning up."   
There was a blood stained washcloth soaking in the sink when Sara came into the bathroom; she found Adrienne staring at herself in the mirror. She turned to Sara to show her neck. "There's no cut. Nothing at all." Sara sighed.  
"We'll have to talk about this later. My partner's here to work on a case. I'd like,...I'd feel best if you spent the night here. You don't mind?"  
"No. Not at all."  
"Come on. I'll find you a clean shirt. I told Jake you had a bloody nose."  
"Thanks. A clean shirt would be great. And a glass of water?"  
"Yeah. Shirt first." Sara led Adrienne into her bedroom, and began digging around for an appropriate garment. She finally handed Adrienne a rather faded Yankees sweatshirt. "You can crash in here if you like, while I work with Jake."  
"Thanks, but I think I'll go out on the fire escape. I could u the fresh air. Keep your friend Batman company" Adrienne's last remark was lost as she pulled the sweatshirt on. Sara nodded and went to rejoin Jake. Adrienne poured herself a glass of water and climbed out the window, doing her best not to disturb the two detectives.  
"Pez?"  
"Mmmhmmm?"  
"Throw me a bone."  
"Ok. Yeah. Right. Sorry Jake. Abridged version, I guess. I was adopted as an infant. Adrienne is my half sister, my mother's fourth and youngest child. My mother is ill; she wanted Adrienne to find me, to explain things, to make peace. And she did. Find me, that is. so now we're in the process of hashing out some confusing family history. Satisfied for the moment?"  
"Whoa, Pez, I had no idea."  
"Forget it. Let's just look at this case."  
Outside the window, Adrienne studied the man sitting on the steps above her, ignorant of her presence. Even with little light, she could tell he was handsome. And unusual. Probably dangerous as well. But she felt a spark of recognition when she looked at him, so she scrambled up to sit next to him regardless of what threat he might pose to her. He was so shocked at her sudden appearance that he looked her full in the face before turning away to compose himself.  
"Good evening," Adrienne said, cheerfully and conversationally. It's a lovely night, really." She paused, waiting for her companion to comment, but he remained silent. so, she continued talking. "If only you could see the stars. I always love stargazing, even though I have a terrible time keeping track of all the constellations. The trouble with the city is that you can never see the stars. Not as they're meant to be seen. It's rather like fog distorting a familiar landscape, or a veil obscuring a familiar face. I'm Adrienne, by the way. I noticed you follow my sister, watch her. Why is that? I think I know you of old, but I cannot place you in my memory. Why do you follow Sara?"  
No answer came from the black clad man. "You haven't even introduced yourself. That's very rude. I've been trying to be polite and all, asking reasonable questions. But I need the answers one way or another. I guess it will have to be another." Adrienne was silent for a long moment, and when she spoke again, her voice was strained.  
"Ian Nottingham. That was not your name when last we met. Warrior, assassin, sword master, body guard, follower of the Witchblade, sometime guardian of the wielder." Adrienne laughed, her voice still strange sounding. "And you love her. Or think you do. How interesting." Ian looked at her suspiciously, but the girl's eyes seemed to be seeing something else. Adrienne shook her head, and then, in a normal voice, "So that's why. You might have told me."  
"Sara told you, " Ian growled, but Adrienne was unaffected. "And you are gravely mistaken; we have never met before now."   
"Sara told me nothing of you. We had more important things to speak of. As to the other, well, I expect you will remember in time."  
"What are you?" Ian's voice was low and threatening, but it still did not phase Adrienne.   
"I am the offspring of a man-cloaked demon and a lunatic prophet. An unpleasant birthright and one I have separated myself from, to some degree. I am a witch, trained in many arts and sworn and bound to uphold the sacred balance of existence. And I am Adrienne, sister and guardian of the wielder Sara. But what, pray, or who, are you, Ian Nottingham? You do not really know, do you? I think you have been kept from learning.   
The world is a wonderful place, for those who choose joy over sorrow, strength over pain. Do not let yourself be forced into pain and sorrow. Even so briefly in your presence I can tell that you are stronger than that."   
They sat in silence for a long while; Adrienne studying her surroundings, and Ian wondering at this creature who heard the echoes of his thoughts. After a time, Adrienne stood up. She turned and took Ian's powerful gloved hand firmly in her own small bare one. "We will be friends, Ian Nottingham," she said smiling. She bent over and gently kissed his cheek.  
Ian did something very rare, for him. He raised his head to look Adrienne directly in the eyes. He held her gaze, and then, hardly knowing why he did so, he said in a low voice accompanied by a half smile, "Yes lady. We will be friends."  
Adrienne smiled brightly at him again before disappearing through the window, leaving Ian to wonder how this strange girl had affected him so much.  
Kenneth Irons did not look up as his servant glided silently into the room.  
"Well?"  
"A half sister to Miss Pezzini." Irons looked up now, obviously thrown.  
"Not,..not the Bronte girl?"  
"No. this one is different. Younger, smaller, darker. and she sought out Sara."  
"Who is she?"  
"She called herself Adrienne. She said that she was the child of a crazed seer and a demon in human guise. I do not know if she meant the latter literally, or as an insult to her father."  
'Go on."  
"She is a witch of some extensive training and skill. I do not know of what order. She did not say, and there was no indication of any I know."  
"What of her connection to the blade? Does she know of it?  
"She is sworn to guard the wielder, and she made it clear that her relation to Sara added to her resolve."  
"There is something else."  
"They shared, I think, some vision provided by the witchblade."  
"Yes. I felt it. What can you tell me of it?"  
"Their eyes remained open throughout, they seemed involved in something unseen. At one point, they both cried out; the stone of the blade gave off a bright white light. When it ended, they were both weeping, and the one called Adrienne bled from a wound in her throat that was not there."  
"This is, unfortunate. They have learned a great deal. They have witnessed the making, the calling forth of the gauntlet. Few have; I have not. And with the witch as her watchdog, it will be harder than ever to remain on good terms with the good detective. The witch must not remain. Bring her to the house, tomorrow night. We shall see what price she asks to relinquish her post."  
"I do not think she will come."  
"Use any means necessary. But get her here."  
"Yes. Sir?"  
"What is it, Nottingham?" Irons snapped.  
"There is more to her, I think, than it might seem." Irons sent an irritated glare in the direction Ian's bent head.  
"You are dismissed for the night." Ian turned to leave. "Adrienne, you said her name was?"  
"Yes sir."  
"You know, it is said that if a faery once kisses you, you are forever in their thrall."  
"Is the witchblade Faery, then?" Ian murmured as he left, loud enough for Irons to hear. Irons frowned at Ian's receding back and then turned his attention back to the book he had been reading.  
  
  
Jake McCarty was still there when Adrienne came in from outside. "Hello Detective McCarty. Nice to see you again."  
"Please, just call me Jake. So, Pez's sister, huh? I gotta say it's the last thing I expected." Adrienne smiled winningly. Jake silently hoped that this girl could get his partner to lighten up. She seemed sensible enough. "Maybe now since she's got you, she'll stop talking to herself all the time." Adrienne glanced at Sara and laughed.  
"You'd be surprised, Jake, at how hard such habits are to break." Jake began to pick up his things, and Adrienne, still smiling in amusement, handed him his coat and walked him to the door. Sara was still immersed in some case document. Just as he was leaving, Jake turned, and gripping her arm, pulled Adrienne closer to him.  
"You look out for her, ok?"  
"I know Jake. that's what I'm here for." Jake left then, pulling the door closed behind him. Maybe this girl might turn out to be Pezzini's guardian angel. He hoped so. If anyone needed one, it was Sara.  
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2 notes. #1- The idea for Ian to respond to Adrienne as 'lady' occurred to me, and was written into my story, before Maelstrom aired. Nothing else he could say seemed to fit.  
  
#2- Regarding Iron's last remarks concerning the fae. This sort of worked its way in by accident. Adrienne, the name, means 'woman of the sea' . But the really interesting part is this- when you take out the additional 'ne' that are used to identify the name as feminine, one finds that Adrienne is an anagram for neriad, which is the name for a water nymph. So ponder that.  
  
  



	6. Beginnings

For disclaimer, see previous chapters.  
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Sara laid out couch with blankets and pillows. Adrienne had refused the bed. As Sara finished, Adrienne approached her uneasily. "Sara?" she began.  
"What is it?"  
"If nothing else, I need you to know this. Our mother loved you very much. She would tell me about you; she could see you in her dreams as you grew up. if you ever blamed her, resented her for giving you up, please don't. Forgive her that. she wanted to keep you with her but circumstances wouldn't allow. She loved you as if you had been right there with us. She did her best, even if she did fall apart in the end." Sara didn't say anything for several minutes.  
"Before now, I never felt anything for my birth parents. What you've told me has let me accept that part of myself. I can't say I love my mother, but I don't hate her or resent her."  
"That's more than anyone could ask. I'll tell her; it will ease her mind, I think."  
"Might I see her? Speak with her?" Adrienne looked at the floor and when her eyes again met Sara's they glistened with unshed tears.  
"She couldn't understand Sara. She's, she's really bad. Her mind isn't...Routine, familiarity; that's what keeps her from going off the deep end. She's been institutionalized for years. She lives in her own little world, we just do our best to keep her contented there. She does love you, she never forgot you, but she knows you only as a sort of abstraction. The price for breaking down her perceptions might be losing her completely. No one wants that."  
"No, no of course not. Thank you Adrienne. You've made her real for me. That means something. Goodnight." When the lights were off, Adrienne crept over to Sara's bed. She was asleep. With her thumb, Adrienne traced some symbol on Sara's temple, and whispered a charm.  
"Sleep, sweet sister,  
slumber well.  
And with thee  
let no nightmares dwell.  
Sleep refresh your tired frame,  
then welcome in the flames of dawn."  
Adrienne smiled, and then returned to the couch where she curled up and slept herself.  
  
Sara awoke to the pleasant aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Adrienne was busy in the kitchen, she looked completely at home. "Coffee pot's full. Clean mugs next to it. How do you like your toast?" Adrienne smiled brightly at Sara before returning her attention to the toaster and her enormous cup of tea. Sara poured herself some coffee and sat down at the table with the cream and sugar.  
"Em, not burnt, please?"  
"I think I can manage that. What do you want on your toast? Butter? Cinnamon? Jam? Honey? Marmalade?"  
"Butter please. Wait a sec, do I even have marmalade?"  
"Well, you didn't until half an hour ago." Adrienne set a plate of toast and the butter dish in front of Sara. Sara sat silently, sipping her coffee and buttering her toast; mostly enjoying the company.  
Adrienne sat down opposite her, with her tea, toast, and marmalade. Sara laughed. "How British of you!" Adrienne grinned.  
"Hey, spend half your life on those islands and you're bound to develop a fondness for some things."  
"Where?"  
"West coast of Ireland until I was 7, Cambridge Massachusetts til 12, then 3 years shuffling between England, Scotland and Wales. Then Scandinavia for a year. A year in Russia, then to China, and then back to the coast, to county Mayo. After that, to university in Dublin, then home to Mayo, then to Boston, in Massachusetts again, and now here."  
"Wow. Weren't you, well, lonely?"  
"I suppose. But there were always constants. And too much to do and learn to be lonely."  
"What were you doing in Boston?"  
"Working. Antique and rare book dealings. I was able to set up a job here, actually. My boss was nice enough to recommend me to a colleague of his who has a shop here in the city. I'm going to meet him tomorrow."  
"You have everything though out, don't you?"  
"Ha! Only the most trivial things. I was wondering, can you recommend any decent housing in the area? I plan on staying on for a while."  
"You're welcome to stay here as long as you like."  
"Be sensible Sara. No, I do appreciate it, but I need my own space; as do you."  
"I'm sorry. You're right, but I'm almost afraid you'll disappear."  
"Sara, I spent my life waiting to find you. In the immortal words of Mick Jagger, 'Wild horses couldn't drag me away.'" She chuckled. Sara looked thoughtful for a moment.  
"I think one of the apartments on the lower floors of this building might be vacant."  
"Sounds promising. You on good terms with your landlord?  
"Pretty good."  
"Then let 'em know you have an interested party?"  
"Of course. I'll call today. What are you going to do today, by the way? I don't get off work til 6-"  
"If it's ok with you, I'd like to check out of my hotel. Never liked them much. Is it all right if I stow my stuff here for a while? It isn't much."  
"That's fine."  
"Maybe I'll get some shopping done too."  
"Okay. Great. I gotta go. I'll see you tonight?"  
"Yep." Sara stood awkwardly for a moment. Adrienne noticed, and stood up, giving Sara a gentle hug. "I know it's strange. But we'll get to know each other better. Don't worry." Adrienne gripped Sara's witchblade hand, and a thousand images of that action, and of the reassuring smile that accompanied it, flashed through Sara's mind. She left Adrienne cleaning up the breakfast dishes.  
By 5 o'clock, Adrienne had finished her errands, and was lounging on the couch reading an Agatha Christie mystery. Ian Nottingham came in through the window. Not taking her attention from her book, Adrienne remarked dryly "You know, you really ought to consider the door. It's the done thing, if you take my meaning. Sara isn't home. but you know that. So what do you want?"  
"My employer, Kenneth Irons, has requested the pleasure of your company this evening."  
"Has he indeed? Well, I can't say I wasn't hoping to see him. Do you want for me to come now?"  
"That would be ideal."  
"Right. Give a few minutes to write a note and change. Wouldn't want to give Kenneth Irons a poor impression." She said this with a note of sarcasm that sparked Ian's curiosity, but he said nothing. When Adrienne reappeared, Ian felt he truly understood the meaning of the expression "Dressed to kill."  
Adrienne wore a slightly shaped red dress, of some well draped material ending in a hem just above her knees. Over it was a tailored red and black brocade jacket. Against the white of her neck, she had a black ribbon choker hung with red crystal. A pair of heeled black boots completed the ensemble.  
Turning from her writing on the table, Adrienne held out a hand to Nottingham. "Shall we?" he handed her her coat and silently escorted her out of the apartment.  
  
  
  



	7. You can't choose your relations...

Just a reminder, I only claim Adrienne and the Mithra'ahni as my creations. Everything else belongs to Top Cow, and TNT, and a whole bunch of other lucky stuffs. I'm just borrowing them for my little story.  
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Neither Adrienne nor Nottingham said a word until Ian was ushering her into Iron's receiving room. "Your guest, sir." Ian was about to leave when Adrienne spoke. She had been appraising her surroundings.  
"Oh, do stay, Ian. The more the merrier." She was looking directly at Irons, well aware that he would be annoyed.  
"Yes, Ian, stay a while. You can properly introduce us, for a start."  
"Miss Adrienne Farrell, my employer, Kenneth Irons." Irons rose to greet her; he took her left hand and gently touched it to his lips. Adrienne's eyes sparkled with amusement.  
"Miss Farrell."  
"Mr. Irons." She stood her ground. Irons was used to intimidating people; this girl surprised him. She could meet his eyes with a clear, cold, unwavering gaze to match his own.  
"Ian, please take care of Miss Farrall's coat." Ian did so, and then resumed his position in the shadows at the back of the room. "Please, Miss Farrell, Adrienne, do you mind if I call you Adrienne?"  
"If you wish," came her cool reply.  
"Adrienne, please, do sit down." Irons indicated a high-backed leather chair opposite him, and Adrienne complied. Somehow, despite her small stature and the relative giant size of the chair, she managed to look completely poised. "So, I understand you are a half sister to an acquaintance of mine, Sara Pezzini. Remarkable woman, Miss Pezzini. I wasn't aware she had any siblings."  
"Weren't you? I would have expected you to have her entire family tree committed to memory."  
"Indeed?"  
"I don't like playing mind games, Mr. Irons. I find them tiresome. Please make your point."  
"Well, you certainly have Sara's appreciation for brevity. Though I must admit, you are rather more eloquent about it." Adrienne moved her lips into something between a smile and a sneer.  
"Mr. Irons?" She sounded a bit bored.  
"I have had, for some time, a vested interest in Sara Pezzini; in her affairs and her well-being."  
"A vested interest? What an intriguing way of putting it." Irons ignored this comment.  
" As her sister, I know you would never dream of causing her any trouble, of putting her in any danger, of worrying her unduly. what I mean to say is, it's really best for everyone if you don't complicate Sara's situation by introducing your involvement into her life."  
"You mean, it would make things difficult for you." All the sarcasm was drained from Adrienne's voice; her words were a simple statement of fact.  
"If you wish to put it that way."  
"Oh, and I do. It is, after all, the truth. You must have thought me exceptionally stupid, Mr. Irons, bringing me here expecting to be able to bully me into staying away from my own sister; leaving you, of all people, to interfere freely. what will it be next? Bribes I suppose. What do you think would buy me, Mr. Irons? Wealth? Power? Long life? You are a very great fool indeed, Mr. Irons, for not knowing your adversary." Irons glared at her.  
"Oh, don't you remember?" Adrienne taunted, "Don't you recognize me, Daddy?"   
She spat out the last sentence as if it carried some foul taste. Irons stared at Adrienne for a moment. Then he smiled coldly, regaining his composure.  
"I'm afraid you are mistaken in that claim. I have no-" Adrienne cut him off.  
"No, I am not mistaken. True, perhaps you have no legally recognized offspring. However, even if I were not trained in various majicks, there are still plenty of things to prove my claim." She paused, and when Irons said nothing, she slammed a photograph down on the table next to him. "Don't you remember?" Adrienne made no attempt to hide the bitterness in her voice. "Don't you remember my mother? She had the mental and emotional stability of a seesaw, and you seduced her. She was married, with two children, and you seduced her while her husband was working a rig in the North Sea. You got her pregnant, and when you realized the child wouldn't be what you wanted, what you thought it would be, you disappeared. So I was born, and my mother lost it, and she wasn't even sane enough to hold me.  
You thought she would bear you a bladewielder. You preyed on her, on her visions. All your research indicated that she would mother the wielder. But you could tell that your child was never meant to wear the gauntlet. Thing is, you were so set on that one thing, on the witchblade, that you failed to recognize the unusual potential I did have. my aunt saw it, before I was born, that I could be a vessel, a conduit for power. Imagine what power you might have controlled if you took me! And in your ignorance, you abandoned me. And me, I became a Mithra'ahni, and one who cursed you daily.   
I can only be glad it took you such a long time to find Sara; never occurred to you that she had been born ten years before you laid eyes on our mother, and was safely tucked away in New York."  
There was total silence in the room for what seemed like hours. Ian Nottingham had lifted his head some time before to observe the scene playing out before him. When Irons finally spoke, he was looking at the photograph. He made no attempt to deny Adrienne's story, and said only, "The Mithra'ahni are dead. You cannot be one of them."  
"Such things never die, as you should know. Numbers dwindle, but knowledge and power remain, to be passed on or rediscovered. If you had trained me, you might have made a powerful ally. Instead, you have yet another person who would sooner see your head on a spike than speak to you." Adrienne stopped, and tilted her head to look at Irons. "Thank heavens I favor my grandmother in looks. If I resembled you I would have died of shame long before now. I'll be leaving. I hope you die the long and miserable death you deserve. Keep the picture. I don't need a reminder of how loathsome you are."   
She stood and strode purposefully toward the coat tree. Ian was ready for her, and helped her into her slim black leather jacket. He was about to follow her out the door when Irons' voice caught him. "Where are you going?" the older man inquired acidly. Ian gave the slightest shrug of his shoulders.  
"I brought the lady here. I thought I must at least take her home."  
"Oh. Very well." Ian left Irons pacing in front of his fireplace.  



	8. The night is young...

Here I am with chapter 8. I was felling rather down since I hadn't gotten any reviews, so I didn't type it right away. then somebody reviewed chapter 7 and I got kinda happy. Once again, for the record, I don't own the WB folks. I just write about them.  
  
Note- As you probably know, mental illness is sometimes a genetically inherited disorder. So when you look at Adrienne, remember that her mom's in a loony bin and her dad is Beelzebub (aka Kenneth Irons). So for her, what might at first seem out of character behavior is quite the opposite. She's definitely a little nuts.  
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Adrienne surprised Ian by bursting into tears just after the car cleared the drive. Ian pulled the car over. "What is it? What's wrong?" he asked nervously. Ian was becoming painfully aware of how completely inept he was in the presence of other people when he hadn't been told or planned out what to do. Weeping young women were not something Irons had trained Ian to deal with.  
"I'm sorry Ian," she spluttered, sobbing. Terrified, Ian gently took Adrienne's hands from where they covered her eyes.  
"I'm so terribly sorry," she apologized again, still crying, but to his relief, allowed Ian to hold her hands.  
"What is it you're sorry for? I don't understand. Ian's brown eyes searched Adrienne's face for an answer.  
"For not ... cause you...If Irons had taken me, then he wouldn't have this awful hold over you. I can only imagine what he's put you through. And it should have been me. I'm his daughter. He never had any right to you. At least he had a real claim to me, but you, you could've been happy and free..."Adrienne promptly dissolved into tears again. Ian stammered slightly as he phrased his response.  
"I appreciate your, um, empathy. But what's past is past and it was never in our control any way."  
"No, no, it wasn't." She wipe her face off and blew her nose. "All the same, I wish I could make it up to you."  
Ian shifted the car out of park and pulled away from the curb, and drove towards Sara Pezzini's apartment. After they had driven in silence for a time, Adrienne spoke up.  
"Don't take me back. I...not yet. There must be clubs or something open, yeah?" Ian didn't answer, but a few minutes later he pulled the car to a stop outside a likely looking nightclub. Adrienne climbed out of the car, and Ian followed a few feet behind her. The bouncer let them in without a second glance (after all, the guy in black looked like he could've been a bouncer himself; that or secret service)  
The flashing lights and throbbing music had a soothing effect on Adrienne. They had the opposite effect on Ian, but he gave no sign of his discomfort. He helped Adrienne check her coat and jacket, admiring as he did the delicate tattoo patterns on her slim white arms. He was about to find himself a place to sit when Adrienne grabbed his arm.  
"Oh, come on. Lose the hat and coat. Come dance." She grinned playfully.  
"I don't know-" Ian began.  
"Ian Nottingham. Anyone who moves the way you do needs dancing lessons about as much as Barishnakov." Ian couldn't help smiling, and he went along with it, checking his hat and coat and then allowing himself to be led onto the crowded dance floor.  
Adrienne draped one arm casually over Ian's shoulder. Eyes closed, she swayed and nodded her head in time to the music, thankful that it was too loud to think. Ian, despite his initial misgivings, found that he was relatively comfortable in the anonymous crowd of bodies. It was a chance to breathe, anyway- he didn't have to worry about watching anyone, or anyone watching him. Although, he thought, smiling inwardly, Irons would probably want him to keep an eye on Adrienne. But he didn't mind that. Ian glanced down, watching her move easily to the music. Her red-stained lips curved up in a half smile, standing out against the pallor of her skin.  
Ian wasn't the only one noticing her. A tall blond woman snaked a bangled arm around Adrienne's shoulders, drawing her away from Ian.  
"Hey beautiful,"the woman crooned," Where ya been?" Ian looked to Adrienne for a clue of what to do next. Adrienne just laughed and turned to take the other woman's arm.  
"Wasting my time, evidently." They sidled off, dancing and laughing. Ian retreated to the bar and watched Adrienne from there. She didn't seem to care who she danced with, male or female, old or young; as long as they wanted to dance with her. Eventually, she made her way over to where Ian was sitting.  
"So this is where you got to. I suppose this it where all the action's at?" Ian almost smiled. It was odd, for someone to speak to him so. Not with superiority, or disgust, or fear, but with genuine good humor. "Thanks for putting up with me. Shall we make our exit?" Nodding, Ian headed for the coat check with Adrienne at his heels.  
Jake followed his partner up to her apartment for coffee after work. he was measuring out some sugar when he noticed Sara frowning at something on the table. "What's up?" He brought the steaming cups over and sat down.  
"Oh. It's nothing. Just... Adrienne left a note, says she left at five to visit an acquaintance she found out lives in New York. Don't wait up. Wish she could've made it more specific."  
"Hey, she probably met up with some friends and went out. No big deal."  
"I guess. But she didn't mention knowing anyone."  
"Sara, relax. drink your coffee. I made decaf since it's so late. Drink up before it gets cold. You'll feel better." Somehow, being mothered my Jake shook Sara out of her dismal state of mind. She smiled and tugged him out of his chair and over to the couch in front of the television.  
"Come on. There's a James Bond marathon on."  
Jake fell asleep halfway through 'From Russia with Love.' Sara got off the couch and lifted Jake's legs up so he could lie down properly. The movement illicited something between a grunt and a snore, but didn't wake him.  
Where would Adrienne sleep? Sara thought suddenly. She turned the television off as Sean Connery was attempting to evade the poison-knife-tipped boots of a hysterical Russian hitwoman. It was nearly three thirty in the morning. Sara changed her clothes, donning pajama pants and a T-shirt, but she couldn't relax, nevermind sleep. So, she cleaned the dishes. And then the rest of the kitchen. Around four fifteen, she heard the door opening, and Adrienne speaking softly to someone outside.  
"Thank you. God knows, I might have spent the whole night crying. I thought I was going to vomit when I saw him sitting there." Sara couldn't here Adrienne's companion, but Adrienne laughed quietly at whatever they said.   
"Yeah, well, you should get out more. I'll see you when I see you, then."  
Ian Nottingham nodded and was turning to leave when Adrienne put a hand on his shoulder, turning him toward her. She leaned down from the step she stood on and kissed him, slowly and gently. Ian was too surprised to react. He just nodded and disappeared down the dark corridor. Adrienne smiled and locked the door, trying to be as quiet as possible. She almost jumped when she saw Sara sitting at the table.  
"I told you not t-" Sara cut her off, her voice tired.  
"I was worried. So many things happen; I was afraid..." Relief and exhaustion swept over Sara, and she couldn't hold back the tears that came as well.  
"I lose everyone. And I just found you. I couldn't bear..."  
"Oh Sara, I'm so sorry. Come on, you're exhausted, get into bed." Adrienne carefully wiped the tears off Sara's face and helped her into bed. she sat on the far side, stroking Sara's hair.  
"Hush. Hush Hush-a-bye  
Go to sleepy little Sara." Adrienne sang the lullaby barely above a whisper, but it was how lullabies were meant to be sung, low and soothing.  
"When you wake,   
You shall have  
All the pretty little horses.  
Blacks and bays,  
Dapples and grays,  
Coach and six white horses." She hummed the melody again, until she was sure Sara was sleeping. It was only a minute or so before Adrienne herself had fallen asleep, fully clothed, on top of the blankets next to her sister.  
  
  
  



	9. Working Girls

Here's chapter 9. And I bet all you Ian/Sara shippers are wanting to bludgeon me right now. Don't fret. And as far as Ian dancing, well, think of it like this: club is dark, loud and crowded, can't see anyone very well unless you're near them, and seriously folks, it's ridiculous how little movement is necessary to qualify as dancing in this day and age.  
Anyhoo, disclaimer, again. The Witchblade and the characters from the series are not mine, etc.,etc., etc.,. So don't hurt me.  
  
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Jake was the first to wake up. It took him a minute to realize where he was, and then another full minute to remember that he was working the late shift again and he needn't panic about being late for work. He considered going back to sleep, but it was a nice morning, so he neatened up the couch and went over to the kitchen to start some coffee. Real, caffeinated coffee this time.  
Once he had the coffee brewing, Jake went over to check on Sara. She was in bed fast asleep, with Adrienne, fully dressed, conked out next to her. Judging from her attire, Jake figured he had been right about Adrienne's activities the previous night.  
Just as Jake was sitting down at the kitchen table with his coffee, Adrienne wandered over, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.  
"Oh, good morning Detective."  
"Good morning yourself. Have a pleasant evening?" He meant the question more as a tease than anything, but she considered carefully.   
"No, and yes. But fortunately the pleasant bit was the later part, so it balanced things out." She took her boots off and padded over to the stove to start the tea kettle.  
"So what were you up to?"  
"I had to meet with someone. Sort of an acquaintance of a friend. Didn't go to well. So I spent the rest of the night at a dance club to cheer myself up." Adrienne grinned as she sat down, and Jake smiled back.  
"I even scored a few phone numbers and invites." Jake watched in disbelief as she reached under the neckline of her dress and took out several cards and scraps of paper; she must have been keeping them in her bra. Looking up to see the shocked expression on Jake's face, Adrienne laughed. "Don't be silly Jake. Where else was I going to put them? My coat was in the check room and my dress doesn't have pockets."  
"I'm sorry, I just..."  
"It's all right. Whatever. She walked back over to the stove to make her tea and pulled down a cereal box, still laughing.  
Sara smiled when she woke up to see her partner and her sister eating breakfast. It was so simple, so ordinary, so normal. For this moment on this morning, thing were right. She poured herself some coffee and sat down. "Good morning."  
"G'Morning Pez."  
"Hmn muffing." (Adrienne's mouth was full) She swallowed. "How did you sleep?'  
"Like a rock."  
"Yeah, I can imagine. You were ready to keel over when I came in last night."  
"Speaking of which, where were you?"  
"Nightclub. I had to meet with someone...with someone who knew my mother. I was upset when I left so I stayed out. I'm sorry. I should've called or something."  
"I guess. I mean, It's ok. It's not like you're 12. hey. I don't have to go into work until late today, do you want me to take you over to your job?"  
"That'd be great." Jake looked a bit startled.  
"You're here for 3 days and you already found a job? he said incredulously.  
"I set it up before I came. Through my previous employer."  
"Ah. So what are you gonna be doing?"  
"Working with old books."  
"Oh."  
"It isn't necessarily as dull as it sounds. Oh, man, I need to wash up and change!"  
When Adrienne reappeared about half an hour later, Jake was gone and Sara was mulling over what was probably her third cup of coffee. She looked up when Adrienne came over. "Ready to go?"  
"Yeah. Here's the address. How do I look?"  
" You look fine. Really, "Sara said reassuringly. "Now come on, lets get going."  
They took the car, as Adrienne refused to go anywhere near Sara's beloved motorcycle. Sara even though she heard Adrienne mumble something about a 'death machine'. It wasn't long before they pulled up outside the book shop where Adrienne was to work. "Hah!" Adrienne exclaimed, as she read the sign. "Arts and Letters- a book store named after a racehorse. I love it already."  
The shop was on a corner, the last in a row of stores. So, on the far side was an alley, on the other side a tailor's shop. Then there was an antiques store, a cafe, a hair salon, and an appliance repair shop. The other side of the narrow street was occupied by a brick wall that made up the back of a factory building.  
"Thanks Sara. I'll get back all right myself. Call a cab or something."  
"You sure?"  
"Yeah. Go home and take a nap and a shower before you take up your sacred duty in protection this fair city." Sara laughed and drove off. Adrienne knocked smartly on the bookshop door. there was no response, so she tried the knob, and found the door was open, but stuck. She pushed, to no avail, and then slammed her knee against the door, under the knob. To her immense satisfaction, the door swung open.  
Once inside, Adrienne pushed the door back gently, so it wouldn't stick again. The main room was cool, with dim lighting. She took a deep breath, inhaling the comforting scent of old books, ink, binding glue, and...tea. While slowly moving towards the back, where she supposed the office was, Adrienne was confronted by a bespectacled man carrying a pile of books. He was of middling height, rather wiry, and had white hair; but Adrienne could only place him between the ages of 65 and 80. She had always been rather bad at gauging people's ages. The man reminded Adrienne of an eccentric Greek professor she had once studied with.  
The man looked at her with a puzzled expression for a moment. Then his face cleared and he smiled pleasantly. "Ah. You must be Adrienne. I nearly forgot you were coming today. Jim O'Connell spoke very highly of you."  
"Jim O'Connell is a big softy, as I'm sure you know." Chuckling slightly, the bookseller agreed.   
"Yes, yes, he is indeed. But in matters of business and academia, he is razor sharp. I must say, I'm so pleased to have the help. I hope you don't mind getting to work right away? I just received a shipment 3 days late and they need to be catalogued. I'll explain things as we go along. For know, if you could just enter the new shipment information into the computer (he indicated a battered laptop) and then into the log (he pointed to a binder), that would be most helpful. I like to keep two sets of records, and only one digital, just in case. Oh! I'm forgetting myself. Edward Green." He held out a bony, calloused hand, which Adrienne shook firmly.  
"Adrienne Farrell. I'll get right on that late order." She happily attacked her task, and Edward noticed approvingly her gentle, almost reverent handling of the volumes.  
  
Sara Pezzini's boss, on the other hand, was far from pleased with his detective; he called her into his office before she even checked into her own. Sara stood in front of the irate captain, motorcycle helmet in one hand, a satchel of case files in the other.  
"Pet-sini!"  
"Yes, sir."  
"I would have addressed this yesterday is things hadn't been so busy. The day before yesterday. You better have a damn good excuse for bailing out at 10am!"  
"Sir, my, uh, sister showed up, and-"  
"Wait a minute Pet-sini! Since when do you have a sister?!"  
"That's just it sir. I didn't know until she came to see me here, the other day. She's, well, my biological mother's youngest child. It was quite a shock. I wanted to work things out as soon as possible."  
"Well. Certainly unusual circumstances. Don't make it a habit!"  
"No sir."  
"Where are you and McCarty on the Tuilliger case?"  
"We went over all the forensic reports and photos again, and we were able to discern the murder weapon. We still have a pool of suspects and several possible motives, but the weapon should narrow things down a bit."  
"All right then. Get back to work."  
"Yes captain." Sara consciously tried to mask the irritation in her voice. Still, she thought, it was probably the most civil conversation that she'd ever had with Captain Dante. Having Adrienne around was definitely improving her outlook.  
  
Adrienne was in heaven. She knew it wouldn't last, but as she ate her lunch in the back room of the store, she savored the past week in her mind. She had found her sister; found someone strong and beautiful who had welcomed her with open arms. Adrienne would do everything and anything she could to help her. She had friends, or at least the beginnings of them; Ian the Shadow, Jake, Amy from the club who was going with her to the Met that weekend.   
And if all that wasn't enough, she was being paid to look after beautiful books. Adrienne finished her sandwich and moved back among the stacks where she had been shelving. "Enjoy it while it lasts, Rin," she whispered, addressing herself by a childhood nickname, "Because the good times never do." She smiled ruefully and went to retrieve a step stool.  
Adrienne had an odd tendency to ignore the passage of time. Which was why she had no idea it was past 6, and so past closing time, when her new employer discovered her putting the last of the entries from the last book order onto the computer.  
"Oh! Adrienne! I was so busy, and you were so quiet, it quite slipped my mind to come speak to you. And now you've gone and worked overtime on your first day!" Adrienne blushed.  
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't notice the time."  
"No need to apologize. I'm delighted to find someone so diligent. Do you mind if we discuss the details of your position tomorrow? Scheduling and wages, and the like."  
"Oh no, I don't mind at all. Back here at 9 tomorrow morning?"  
"Yes, that's perfect. Oh, do you think you could run an errand for me? This evening or tomorrow morning?"  
"Of course."  
"Someone procured a few rare antique literary pieces for me, he's holding them for me at his shop."  
"Antique shop?"  
"More of a collector's curiosity shop. This is the address, and here are the names of the manuscripts. You'll want to see Gabriel Bowman."  
"Ok. Tomorrow, then, Mr. Green?"  
"Ed, if you don't mind. Mr. Green always reminds me of that mystery board game. But yes, I'll see you in the morning."  
"Bye then."  
Adrienne left, studying the address. she was about to call a cab from the nearby pay phone when she realized that the shop was within walking distance; she had noticed the street name when Sara had driven her in that morning. Fifteen minutes later, Adrienne was standing outside a green warehouse door.


	10. New Friends

Chapter the tenth. I never thought I could keep a story going this long. They usually just float around in my head for a while. Anyway- once again I don't own the Witchblade characters or concepts. Just my story and my added characters. Enjoy. And apologies to A. A. Milne.  
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"Talismaniac dot com," Adrienne read off the sign on the door. "Well, can't make things much clearer than that." She rang the buzzer, and when no one answered, she rang again, then rapped loudly on the door. Still, no one answered. This seemed to be the pattern for the day. "Un-at-home, are you, Mr. Bowman?" she murmured as she tried the door. It opened, and Adrienne slipped in, closing the door quietly behind her.  
"Hello? Mr. Bowman? Are you here? Hull-o-oh!" Adrienne sighed and proceeded to poke around the shop. "Hmmmm. something for everyone, she said softly to herself, taking stock of the various masks, skulls, vases, guns, jewelry, and other items cluttering the room.  
It was at this point that Gabriel came in from the back room. He hadn't been expecting anyone, so in the interest of self preservation, he stay out of sight to observe his guest without alerting her to his presence. He let a quiet sight of relief escape him once he had taken a good look. No guns, no swords. and she was looking into the jewelry case. Actually, now that he had overcome his initial suspicion, Gabriel couldn't help but cast an admiring eye over the girl. She had a pretty, intelligent face, peroxide streaked hair, a leather jacket, tweed skirt and, (Gabriel grinned when he saw her shoes) combat boots. he walked over to introduce himself.  
Adrienne looked up when she heard his footsteps. "You Gabriel Bowman?" She hid her surprise at his youth and her eyes appraised him for a moment. She seemed satisfied.  
"Yup. That'd be me. How can I help you, Miss...?"  
"Farrell. Adrienne. I just took a job with Edward green at Arts and Letters. He said you were holding some books for him, and sent me by to pick them up. "She handed Gabriel the note from her employer. Gabriel took the paper, read it, and began rummaging through a large cardboard box behind a counter.  
"So Ed finally hired some help. It's about time. He should have ages ago. Oh well, here's one of the books." Gabriel pulled a book from the box and slid the yellowed volume across the counter. Then he turned to a file cabinet and resumed his search there. "How did you get into the business? Book dealing, I mean," he inquired conversationally. Adrienne looked at him curiously, but kept her voice even when she spoke.  
"How do you know I'm not just helping him out? a job's a job, and it's not as if I need a degree to organize old books." Gabriel laughed, his attention still on the filing drawer.  
"I know you must be very well educated in the area you're working in, because otherwise, Ed would never have hired you."  
"Fair enough. I majored in mythological and antiquarian studies at university. I had a great deal of trouble finding many of the texts I wanted to work with, so that's what got me onto the rare book circuit. And you, how did you come by your business?"  
"Could never concentrate on any one thing, ya know? So when I saw there was a demand for this kind of stuff, I figured hey, why not? Might be interesting. Ok, here's another text. Careful, it isn't properly bound. "   
Gabriel was about to continue his search when her heard Adrienne sigh; she was gazing at the manuscript before her dreamily, lovingly. Her mouth silently formed the words of the text. Gabriel walked over, fascinated.  
"You can read that? The Cyrillic?" Adrienne nodded, still enthralled by the pages on the counter.  
"It's Tolstoy. Essays and poems. In his own hand. It's amazing."  
"I'm amazed you can read Russian." Adrienne turned to look up at him.  
"But you must read some languages? Surely with these antiquities..." She motioned around the shop.  
"Only enough to recognize them. Hold on a minute. That last book is in the back room." Gabriel hustled off to find it. When he returned, Adrienne was staring into the jewelry case, her mouth gaping wide. He laughed. "What is it?" Adrienne's voice was nearly a whisper.  
"I don't believe it. You have her ring. You have the bitch's ring!" Gabriel walked around the counter to see what she was referring to. It was a gold ring, inscribed inside and out with Greek lettering, worn with age. A polished black stone was the only setting. Gabriel studied it, wondering, and took in out of the case. it was a pretty enough bauble, in a simple way, but he didn't see anything particular about it.  
"What do you mean? It's a nice piece, ancient Greek." Adrienne looked at Gabriel oddly.  
"And how must are you asking for it?"  
"Fifteen grand."  
"Mmmm."  
"What? what is it?" Adrienne slipped the ring on her finger and held her hand up to Gabriel.  
"This ring," (she paused for dramatic affect) "graced the hand of none other than Helen of Troy. Or rather, of Sparta, maybe I should say. "Hell to ships, hell to men, hell to cities.' Hell-en." She smiled at Gabriel and wiggled her fingers at him.  
"I don't believe you."  
"Oh really? And Why not? I've studied all over the world, and I have degrees in mythology and antiquities. Gabriel continued to look at her dubiously. "Fine. have it your way." Adrienne took the ring off. "But it's worth millions." She handed Gabriel the ring, and he took it, but he grasped her fingers as well, to hold her attention.  
"Why would you tell me? You could buy it off me, resell it, make yourself a very wealthy woman, and I'd be none the wiser. If, of course, you're telling the truth." Adrienne found this funny.  
"But then I would be doing your job for you! And besides, why would I want to cheat you? You've certainly never done anything to me."  
"Uh..."  
"Go ahead. Check it out if you won't take my word for it. but if I'm right, you're buying me dinner." She withdrew her hand from Gabriel's and prepared to leave.  
"Wait, how can I get in touch with you?"  
"Call the book shop. or my sister's; I'm staying with her for the time being." Adrienne handed him a slip of paper with the hastily written numbers. She was nearly out the door when she poked her head back in. "And, ah, by the way, just to warn you, I _always_ have room for dessert." The door closed with a bang.  
Gabriel grinned as he locked the door. It wasn't everyday that a well educated, good-looking, and interesting girl came in. Actually, He wasn't sure it had ever happened before. And for a bonus, she seemed interested in him.  
He tidied the shop, putting things in their proper places, sweeping the floor, and cashing out. When he had finished, he dug the paper Adrienne had given him out of his pocket. For several long minutes after unfolding it, Gabriel looked at it, puzzled. It was simply enough:  
  
Adrienne Farrell@ Arts and Letters- 555-9827  
@ sister's- 555-2723  
  
However, what he couldn't understand was why the second number was Sara Pezzini's. Maybe Adrienne had accidentally altered a number in her haste. Still, it was an odd coincidence. He figured Pez would have mentioned a sister to him, especially if she was staying with her. Despite that, Gabriel made up his mind to give his detective friend a call once he was settled at home.


	11. Be Careful What You Look For

Sorry it took so long. I had writers' block. And then the world as I knew it ended violently over the course of a few minutes. Heaven save us all.  
Here we go with chapter numero 11. Thank you Agatha Christie, I love you. And I must cite Aeschylus for his contribution to chapter 10.  
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For the first time that he could remember, Ian Nottingham was bored. Restless even. He had been trained, and so grown accustomed to long periods of inactivity; of silence and waiting. But today he found himself unable to empty his mind. It had never before occurred to him that he was wasting time during these periods, but he thought of it now.   
Irons had always told him to take advantage of such opportunities to meditate and center himself. Ian had accepted this advice without question. Just then, though, Ian knew meditation would be impossible. He was too edgy. He considered doing sword drills, but he doubted very much that he could maintain the intense level of concentration required to execute the drills successfully. Irons would certainly notice if Ian's swordplay was off.  
Ian's mind wandered back to the book Adrienne had been reading the previous evening. Out of curiosity, and to pass the time while the girl dressed, he had read several chapters. Mystery novels were hardly his standard reading material; Irons would certainly have disapproved strongly. At the moment though, Ian could not stop wondering how the story turned out. He was a quick read, and he had been enjoying the book immensely (it was so very different from what Irons instructed him to read), but he couldn't very well take it with him once Adrienne was prepared to leave.  
Perhaps tonight, he mused, when he took up his post on Sara Pezzini's fire escape, he would slip in and borrow the book for the duration of the night. Ian shook his head to clear his thoughts. It was ridiculous for him to be considering such trivial, petty things. What had gotten into him?  
Adrienne had returned to her sister's apartment a short time before Ian Nottingham. Having put her coat and keys neatly away, she headed over to the low table she had set in the far corner of the room. Carefully, she drew a circle in white chalk of the floor, just large enough so she could fit comfortably inside. Next, Adrienne carefully lit several strategically placed candles on the table, and then at different points on the perimeter of the circle she placed a number of stones, of various colors and sizes.  
Kneeling in the center of the circle, Adrienne reached forward and put a flame to the contents of the miniature brazier that dominated the table. It flared up, green at first, and then the flames died down. Glowing yellow, the flames danced just above the edge of the pewter container, as Adrienne deftly painted a rune on either side of her right hand. This done, she thrust the painted hand into the yellow fire, muttering incantations while the fire licked her hand and fingers.  
Adrienne closed here eyes briefly, and when she opened them they were entirely black, and empty.  
Ian hadn't sensed her presence is the apartment, nor did her car parked out front worry him. He knew that Sara had used it after Adrienne had gone, and Sara was still at work. There was no way he could have seen Adrienne from his vantage point outside the window, since she was tucked in a corner behind the haphazardly piled bags and boxes that held her belongings.  
So, for what seemed like the upteenth time in less that a week, Adrienne took Ian Nottingham by surprise. Once he had slipped inside through the window, Ian went to investigate the slight noise that came from the back of the long room, worried by the faint but distinct smell of smoke.  
Fear was not something Ian Nottingham was very familiar with. However, when he found himself looking into the vacant inky depths of Adrienne's eyes, he was absolutely paralyzed by that very feeling. The peerless assassin hesitated even to breathe.   
Whatever power inhabited the young woman had no interest in Ian. Still, he stood like stone as the terrifying figure moved past him and around the apartment in graceful, measured steps. Every so often she would pause to trace something in the air, and say a word. Whatever shape was traced hung glowing in the air for a few seconds before fading away; and all the words (none of which sounded familiar to Nottingham) were intoned in a voice that did not belong to Adrienne. It had a deep, musical sound to it; but it was barely human.  
Nottingham had absolutely no idea how long he had spent frozen in the corner of Sara Pezzini's apartment. Even when Adrienne, or whatever it was, returned to the circle and the very last spark of yellow fire died, he stayed rooted to the spot.  
That was how Adrienne saw him when she turned her head after the final traces of her spell dissipated; Standing stock still, with his eyes unnaturally wide. Very surprised and not at all happy to see him, Adrienne glared at Ian. It wasn't the sort of glare you would want to be on the receiving end of. Stalin would have quailed. Adrienne finally broke the silence.  
"What the fuck are you doing here?! How long have you been standing there?!" Adrienne wasn't quite yelling, but her voice cracked several times. Ian found that although he could move again, he could not think of anything to say.  
"Well go on, damn it! Answer the fucking question!" Ian remained silent, and by now he had his head bent in his characteristic manner.  
"Yeah. Good Nottingham, just great. Put your tail between your legs, that's right. Ugh." Adrienne's caustic sarcasm reminded Ian of Sara. Quieter now, with more control, Adrienne's voice came at Ian again.  
"Get the hell out of here. And close that damn window on your way out!" When he had gone Adrienne, cleaned away her alter and moved her materials for safekeeping. She suddenly felt very, very tired. Standing alone in the middle of the apartment, Adrienne looked around with the expression of a lost and confused child. Utterly drained by her day at work, her casting, and her outburst at Nottingham, she lay down own Sara's bed and sobbed herself to sleep.  



	12. Getting the job done

I went on a writing kick. Serious brainstorm, couldn't get the words on paper fast enough. I've even been writing on the train ride to and from school. All previous disclaimers apply to this chapter, which is 12, by the way. Wow. A dozen chapters! I never would have thought myself capable. (Pats self appreciatively on back)   
Chapter 12.  
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As she approached the stationary shop, Detective Pezzini grimaced slightly. She had a nasty line of inquiry to follow up on. Jake gave her an understanding smile when he caught up to her after parking the car. "I hope it isn't busy this time of day."  
"Yeah," Sara agreed, "I don't want to scare off customers. Not liking to be the bane of small businesses." Jake smirked.  
"Why do I get the feeling that Dante would love nothing better than to charge in there and make a big scene, ruining any chance of further business for the owners?"  
"Because, Jake, that is exactly the kind of thing he would do." The bells on the opposite side of the door jangled when the two detectives entered the store. Sara was relieved to see only one customer, and he was well out of earshot when they went over to the middle aged woman beaming at them from behind the counter.  
"How can I help you?" They displayed their badges, and the smile left the woman's face, replaced by worry and confusion.  
"I'm Detective Sara Pezzini, and this is my partner, Detective Jake McCarty. I'm afraid we're here to follow a lead in a murder investigation."  
"What? What, I mean how am I..." Jake took the woman's hand gently, to calm her down.   
"Don't worry Ma'am, you're not involved. But if you could answer a few questions for us, it would be a great help. Is there someplace private where we can talk?" The woman nodded and lead the two detectives into a tiny office.  
"Now, Ms. ?" Sara began.  
"Clark. Miss Anne Marie Clark."  
"Miss Clark. At one of our recent crime scenes, we found a partial imprint from what we believe was a letter opener. We were able to identify the mark of your shop, and to lift a partial mark of the main inscription. Your store offers custom engravings, yes?"  
"Yes, that's right, we do."  
"And do you keep records specifically on those engravings?"  
"Oh yes, and they're quite thorough. It's because that's the kind of thing we get repeat business on; people wanting a replica of one that was lost, or what have you. Why?"  
"We're going to need to take a look at those records, Miss Clark."  
"Of course. They're just in here." She reached into the file cabinet that blocked one side of the desk and began to pull out log books. "Almost all of them are here, except for the most recent. Those are in a binder behind the counter. How many do you need?"  
Jake started to answer but Sara cut him off.  
"All of them," she said decisively. Miss Clark looked somewhat surprised, but she took out all the books and piled them on the desk.  
"Now, we have some pictures of the mark from the engraving, maybe you could-"  
"Oh, I'm sorry," Miss Clark said apologetically, interrupting Sara," I don't handle the engravings. That's my brother. You'll have to come by on a Tuesday when he's here. That's the only day he keeps regular hours." Sara and Jake exchanged a look, and then Jake spoke up.  
"Could you arrange to have him meet us tomorrow? Either here, or at the station?"  
"Oh, yes, how silly of me. Certainly. I always close the shop from a quarter to one until a quarter to two. Would that be all right?" She looked at the two detectives expectantly.  
"That will be fine. At a quarter to one tomorrow then." Sara scooped up the record books off the desk. "I'll just take these to the car. If you could give that binder to Detective McCarty on the way out, we'll be leaving. Thank you for your help Miss Clark."  
"Oh, you're most welcome."  
  
In an out-of-the-way corner of a small park, there was a man sitting alone on a bench. His shoulders were hunched over, his head hung low, and in his dark clothing he seemed almost to be part of the shadows around him. It was Ian Nottingham. He knew where he was; he had often cut through this park on his way to or from Sara Pezzini's apartment. The trouble was, today he could not remember how he came there.  
Evidently, stumbling upon Adrienne as he had, had made such an impact that it had taken all this time for anything else to register in his mind. Ian was debating what he would tell Irons. His orders had been to search through Adrienne's things, and to take anything interesting or unusual back to Irons. Well, that plan had been a total washout, because he couldn't rifle through her belongings if she was present.  
As for what had transpired, Ian wasn't sure exactly what it was he had witnessed. Certainly he had no precedence to compare it to. How could he tell Irons, when he couldn't put words to it himself? Ian supposed he could just leave the second part out; no he couldn't. Irons would be able to tell right away that something had disturbed Ian and would demand to know of it. There was no help for it. Besides, Ian couldn't remain any longer, or he would have his tardiness to answer for as well.   
So, a short while later, Ian Nottingham was once again occupy Kenneth irons' Vorschlag offices, in his usual subservient pose.  
"Well," Irons inquired impatiently, "What did you find?"  
"I was unable to conduct the search, sir."  
"And why, may I ask, is that?"  
"The girl, Adrienne, was there sir, in the apartment. For some time, I waited for her to leave, but to no avail." Ian couldn't believe the words coming out of his own mouth. Irons noticed the younger man's surprise.  
"What is it Ian?"  
Loath though he was to betray Adrienne, it was Ian's intention to tell of everything he had seen. However, he found that he was physically unable to form the words. He began to feel dizzy and nauseous. Ian's obvious discomfort was not lost on Irons.  
"Ian, you seem unwell." Ian merely shook his head in response, swaying on his feet. His skin had taken on an unpleasant gray-green hue. "I'll have a car take you straight home. The doctor will be there to examine you when you arrive at the house." Ian gave a shaky nod. Normally he would have protested, but at that moment he didn't even feel well enough to speak.  
  



	13. Confusion

Allright. I appreciate reviews, constructive criticism, compliments, and the like. Statements such as "Write another chapter or else" merely make me uncomfortable. If that is all you have to say, don't bother reviewing at all. As for my brainstorm, that means that I wrote a bunch, not that I typed a bunch. I believe I've mentioned before, and I'll explain again, my writing process. I get an idea, then I write it out in a journal. then, when I have the opportunity (time to spend, available computer, energy, concentration) I type from my rough draft and save the story, chapter, or what-have-you to disk. Then I upload. Take into account I type at about 20 wpm. In addition to all that, while I was typing chapter 12, my computer experienced some kind of system/program error when I tried to save what I had typed. Several times. So I had to retype portions of chapter 12, 3 times. Also, I'm a college student, I have other things to do. Add to that my current state of nerves, be happy I can control the shaking in my hands well enough to type.  
  
So, here's Chapter 13.  
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As soon as Ian left the office for the parking garage, Irons phoned down to one of his drivers, and then called Dr. Immo. He couldn't help but worry; Ian was never ill. His immune system was genetically enhanced to ensure resistance to disease. Having glanced over the appointments scheduled for the rest of the day, Irons decided that he could well afford to leave after his next meeting.  
  
A decidedly bored Jake McCarty rubbed his eyes and sighed audible before continuing to read through the entries in the record book he held. "We're gonna at this all night," he complained to his partner when she reentered the office and handed him the Pepsi he had requested.  
"Yeah, I know. Hey, we're off in a half hour. What about picking up some pizza and finishing this at my place? Adrienne's gotta be wiped after her first day at work, and I don't think there's much in the apartment as far as food goes. I haven't gone shopping this week." Jake nodded his agreement, his eyes trained on the log entries.  
Sara's phone rang just as she sat down. She made a face, hoping it wasn't Dante calling to chew her out about some new shortcoming of hers he had discovered, or imagined. She steeled herself. "Homicide, Detective Pezzini speaking."   
"Hey chief." Sara smiled in relief to hear Gabriel's pleasant tone coming across the line.  
"Hey Gabe. What's up?  
"Yeah, uh, sorry about calling you at work. It's just... Well, I had something kinda weird happen today. A colleague stopped by, new in the area, anyway, they stopped by to pick up some books. And when she left, she left a phone number in case I needed to reach her at home. Thing is Pez, she left your number. So, ah, freaky coincidental mistake, or are you totally holding out on me?" For a few seconds Sara's face was blank, but she quickly made sense of things.  
"Oh God, Adrienne."  
"That was what she said her name was. But she said she was staying with her sister for...Pez?" Gabe stopped when he realized Sara wasn't interrupting him. "Pezzini! How could you _not_ tell me about something like that? I thought we were friends. Thought you trusted me, even." Gabriel was obviously hurt.  
"Gabriel! Gabe! We are! Friends, I mean. And I do trust you. You more than anyone. I swear to you I had no clue about Adrienne until she found me a few days ago. It's just been crazy since then, what with work, and then trying to figure things out..."  
"Right." He didn't sound convinced.  
"Oh come on Gabe. It was a total surprise. Cut me some slack, man."  
"Yeah."  
"Listen, I'm picking up pizzas on my way home. Why don't you come by? We can have a Q and A session after we eat."  
"Ok." There was a pause on Gabriel's end of the line. "Does any of this relate to the, ah, you-know-what?"   
"Of course it does. Remember, "Everything is connected." She gave the mantra in a sing-song recital style that got a laugh out of Gabriel.  
"How could I forget? I'll see you soon then."  
"Yup. Bye." Sara hung up the phone and ran a hand through her hair. Then she began to organize the things she would need to continue working on the case that evening.  
  
Ian barely made it home before being violently and repeatedly sick. He was running a fever, too. The doctor seemed a trifle worried at first, but once he had looked at the blood test results, and had settled Ian in bed, he was relieved to be able to give Irons a relatively good report. "Allergic reaction. Considering Ian's unusually resilient immune system, I expect he should be fine by tomorrow. He should have rest and be kept hydrated."  
"Ian isn't allergic to anything."  
"These things can develop over time. Often, they have nothing to do with genetics. Ian Nottingham has a unique biological chemistry. It is likely he came in contact with a substance that had an adverse reaction to that unique chemistry. It's nothing serious, I assure you."  
"Very well. Thank you doctor."  
"At your service, Mr. Irons."  
Doctor Immo left. Irons remained where he was, sitting in his customary place in front of the roaring fire; frowning as he thought. Irons disliked unusual occurrences not of his own design. He hated surprises. And he had had several, of late. he got up and went to check on Ian. The younger man seemed to be asleep. Satisfied for the moment, Irons headed for the dining room, where his meal was waiting.  
Ian Nottingham had not really been asleep. He had, however, been very glad that Irons had thought so. Now Ian felt he had room to think. So, after making himself as comfortable as possible and taking a few cautious sips of water, think he did. On a mental checklist, Nottingham revisited all of his day's activities, trying to pin down something that could have reduced him to his current state.  
At the end of his list, Nottingham recalled Adrienne's chilling stare. Now that he was alone, he could recall their encounter down to the last detail. Ian gasped involuntarily and opened his eyes. Was that it? Had Adrienne done something to him, prevented him from reporting her actions to Irons? Ian was disturbed, if this was indeed the case. Irons running his life was bad enough; but now a witch who could control him to an unknown extent as well? Ian had no intention of being a pawn in their family squabble. He would have to put a stop to it; confront Adrienne. Ian began to fit his actions to his thoughts, but no sooner was he standing than he was assailed by waves of nausea and dizziness. Nottingham slumped back down onto his bed, clutching his head in his hands. Tomorrow, then, he promised himself. Tomorrow I'll take care of the girl. He sank into a fitful sleep.


	14. Latchkeys

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to post. I found myself in the unpleasant position of having to write a bridge. My good ideas were just too far away from one another in the story. Solution? Pizza party. (What, you were expecting something supernatural? Why ever would you do that?) I'm telling you, when in doubt, feed your characters. They will be grateful, you can use up some of that pesky story timeline, and things just loosen up from there. I really am trying to get along to the more interesting bits, but all this infrastructure is very important. Otherwise the story would jump about and be choppy and unpleasant. Just don't be surprised If it takes a little while for the plot to...curdle.   
  
All previous disclaimers apply, probably a bunch of others too, that I either don't know exist or forgot to mention.  
  
Chapter 14  
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Gabriel showed up outside Sara Pezzini's door with a case of soda. He figured it was too late for beer. He knew Sara wasn't home yet; her Buell hadn't been outside.This however, didn't present a problem, because when last Sara had gone away for a weekend she had left Gabriel a key so he could check on the apartment for her. After the fact, he was never quite sure if she had forgotten about giving the to him, or if she wanted him to keep it. Either way, Sara never asked for it back, and Gabe kept it on his key-ring, just in case.  
So, using this key, Gabe started to unlock the door. Never once did he think that Adrienne would be inside. The fact that the girl who had come into his shop earlier that evening and Pez's mysterious sister were one and the same person had not yet sunk in. Somehow, Gabe still wasn't convinced this sister even existed. In his current mind set, then, it was understandable that he didn't even consider the possibility of the girl actually being in Sara Pezzini's apartment.  
It came as a surprise to Gabriel when in response to the sound of the door opening and closing, he heard a familiar female voice, which was definitely not that of Sara Pezzini. "Sara! I'm soooooo sorry I haven't fixed anything for dinner. I was going to go to the store and...." Adrienne stopped mid-sentence, blinking in confusion at Gabriel when she saw him at the door. She forced a polite, but uncomfortable smile. "Mr. Bowman. How nice to see you again. Please excuse my asking, but how did you get in?"  
"I, uh, I have a key..." Adrienne raised her eyebrows by way of requesting a more thorough explanation. Gabriel found himself babbling. "I just, I wasn't thinking you'd be here. I mean, I knew you would be here, cause I called Pez at work, but...aww shit. I'm not doing so good at explaining, am I?" Gabriel blushed as Adrienne shook her head and giggled. Sighing loudly, he held the soda up and started anew. "I'm a friend of Sara Pezzini, she invited me over for pizza, and I brought beverages of the generic brand root-beer variety." Adrienne stopped giggling and laughed outright at his dramatic presentation.  
"I think that will suffice for now," she said, once she had contained her amusement. "I'm sorry if I was rude. Come in. Sara will be home soon." Adrienne relieved Gabriel of the sodas and maneuvered them into the refrigerator. When she came out of the kitchen area, she found Gabriel seated on the edge of the sofa. Though it was obvious that he was ill at ease in the current situation, Adrienne felt no inclination to bend over backwards to accommodate him. After all, she reasoned, it was his own fault, he had even said so himself (or attempted to). On the other hand, he was a friend of Sara's.  
Adrienne settled for the middle ground. She wasn't about to play hostess, but she did give up on the idea of a long, hot, shower. So, she flopped down next to Gabriel on the sofa and took a stab at conversation. "So, how do you know Sara?" Since her sister was something of common ground between them, Adrienne figured it would be a good topic. She was wrong. Gabriel was not only slow to answer, but vague. He didn't seem to want to talk about it at all.  
"I, uh, did some background on a case for her. Some, ah, evidence research."  
"Oh, cool. Must have been an interesting case. I'll have to ask her about it."  
"It was interesting."   
"Yeah." Gabriel was at a complete loss. Adrienne clenched her teeth (much to the dismay of her dentist) and looked at her watch. The conversation was going nowhere.  
"Twenty past. She should be in any minute." Silence. Something occurred to Adrienne that made her smile, and when Gabriel looked at her inquiringly, she decided to abandon formality in hopes of relieving some of the tension in the room.  
"My dad was away working for months at a time, so whenever me and my brother and sister found out he was coming home, we would have a big countdown. We would even make bets to see who could guess closest to the actual time he came through the door.  
When I was really little, he would come home and pretend that he didn't know us, that he was lost and he spoke no English. And then he would act all happy and surprised that he had found a house with three such clever children who could speak Russian." She smiled again at the memory.  
"Wait a minute! I thought you studied Russian. You mean to say you grew up speaking it? Why didn't you say so when you were reading that Tolstoy earlier?"  
"Because," Adrienne replied unabashedly, "I wanted impress you. And you have to admit, thinking someone studied a difficult language so well as to appreciate original prose leaves a better impression than knowing that they grew up writing and speaking it because it was their dad's first language."  
Gabriel leaned back on the couch, looking at Adrienne, and grinned. "I guess so. But what about your name? Farrell isn't Russian."  
"Aagh," Adrienne waved the question away. "Long, stupid story involving school districts and such."  
"And another thing," Gabriel continued, "Why would you care about impressing me?"  
"Oh really, come on! I'm new in town, pretty much don't know anyone, you're friends with my boss, and besides all that, you can't be more that twenty-five and yet you're successfully running your own business dealing in antiquities, talismans, and curiosities." Gabe colored slightly.  
"Well, if you put it that way..."  
It was then that the door opened and Sara and Jake stumbled in, one carrying several pizzas, the other trying to maintain control over an unwieldy stack of books. Gabriel and Adrienne jumped off the coach to offer the two detectives some much needed assistance. In under five minutes, all four were seated with a slice of pizza and a can of root beer in front of them. For a good long while, the only sounds were those of hungry people eating and drinking, with an occasional grunt to request another slice of pizza from whomever was nearest the box. 


	15. Loops

Hi. Uh, remember me? Sorry about the lengthy hiatus. Writer's block, rewrites, school, trying not to flunk out of school....that sort of thing. But I have new chapters coming, and an ending worked out. I hope you like this chapter. I think I wrote four different versions.  
Also- as always, none of the directly derived Witchblade stuff belongs to me.   
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Sara hustled Jake out the door as soon as was humanly possible. Gabriel and Adrienne had even pitched in with the more mundane casework so the blond detective would leave sooner. Driving home, Jake had the nagging feeling that he was somehow out of the loop, but there was nothing he could do about it. Besides, he didn't even know for sure if there was a loop to be left out of.  
Adrienne flopped down on the floor and announced cheerfully, "I set wards around the whole apartment. No one outside this apartment can hear us, and if someone tries to come in, we'll know because the lights will flicker and your clock radio will go off. "Gabe looked unabashedly impressed. Sara's expression was one of amused skepticism.  
"State of the art security system, huh?"  
"Hey, look who's talking, Miss I-wear-a-sentient-bracelet-that-turns-into-a-sword-and-talks-to-me."  
"Touche."  
"Hey," Gabe piped up, "Can you guys quit squabbling and get on with telling...what ever it is you haven't told me?" Aside from becoming somewhat impatient, Gabriel was feeling almost as uncomfortable with both Sara and Adrienne as he had while waiting with Adrienne alone. According to Sara, the two women had met only a few days before, and yet it seemed as though they had been close for years. He couldn't help but feel a little jealous. It wasn't because he was displeased that Sara had found family, he just felt shortchanged somehow. Even though he wasn't family, Gabe had know and befriended Sara quite a while before Adrienne made her existence known. But he gave it only a passing thought as he looked expectantly to Sara and Adrienne to begin their promised explanation.  
Sara looked at Adrienne. Adrienne looked at Sara. Finally, Adrienne spoke up. "All right, I guess I get to start." She adjusted her position on the floor so as to be more comfortable, then, she cleared her throat and began. "Please save all questions and comments until the end of the lecture. And remember, this material will be covered on the final."  
Sara snorted audibly, and then listened again to Adrienne's account of their relation and the involvement of the Witchblade. When she had finished, Sara picked up and filled in a few of the blanks in the story.  
After studying his friends (for he now considered Adrienne one) thoughtfully for a moment or two, Gabriel spoke. "I think that was the plot of a series of fantasy novels I read once," he declared. This comment sent Adrienne, Sara, and eventually Gabriel himself into peals of laughter. 


	16. Shadowed

Well, I'm getting back into a groove. Unfortunately, my job puts a bit of a crimp in things...Anyway, you're going to see some changes in the behavior of some characters...  
  
As always, I have no official connection or claim to Witchblade.  
BTW- Conchobar's alive. I needed the character. I'm sorry for those of you who don't like him.  
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"This was a bad idea," Sara Pezzini announced as she walked into the club.  
"Oh, get over it. You know you don't get out enough. 'Sides, we didn't have to pay for the tickets," Adrienne countered good naturedly.  
"That's 'cause Gabe's goofy about you."  
"Granted. But it doesn't change the fact that the tickets were free. Or that the cute guitarist is checkin' you out."  
"Wha?!" Sara exclaimed, confused. Adrienne let out an exasperated sight.  
"At your 12. Good looking, rakish blond fella tuning his guitar. Sara, don't stare! Anyway, his jaw dropped about a foot and his eyes practically popped out of his head when you walked in."  
"Oh. Right." Sara's voice dripped with sarcasm. Adrienne rolled her eyes in response.  
"Do you seriously not notice that men drool over you? I mean, just take your partner."  
"Jake?!" Sara asked in disbelief.   
"Oh my. I don't know how you can function in society without noticing these things." She sighed again. "Why don't you find us someplace to sit, I'll go grab a couple of beers.'  
"Yeah, okay." Taking advantage of her sister's preoccupation, Adrienne took the opportunity to corner Ian Nottingham for a quick chat. No sooner had she and Sara entered the club than Adrienne noticed Ian skulking in the shadows; it didn't surprise her.  
  
Ian saw Adrienne walking towards him. Unfortunately for Ian, he didn't see her coming; he actually had no clue as to what she was up to.  
"Hey lover. And what brings you to this neck of the woods? Not your usual venue." Whatever understanding that had existed between them had dissolved when Ian stumbled on her casting. Adrienne was all flirt, coming off as a vamp even clad in grey cargo pants and her combat boots. (Of course, the curve-hugging scoop neck black tank she wore helper her cause, as did a gothic crystal choker and some tastefully smoky eye make up.) As she spoke, Adrienne dragged a teasing finger down the side of Ian's face, all the way down his neck and chest.  
Ian grabbed her wrist and held it in an iron fist as he turned Adrienne so she was pinned to the wall.  
"Ooooh, so you like it rough," Adrienne crooned. Ian's face was only a few centimeters from her own.  
"What are you doing to me, witch?" Ian hissed menacingly.  
"I'm giving you what you want," Adrienne replied simply. Her answer stunned Ian for a moment, as he processed the words. He looked at her, hints of anger and confusion in his expression.  
"What? You can't. You can't even know... what are -  
"I can, and I do, and I've already begun." Ian still had Adrienne pressed firmly against the wall. To any casual onlooker they would have appeared an amorous couple. "My hand's falling asleep," Adrienne complained. Ian moved his hand from her wrist to grasp her upper arm. "Ow!" she exclaimed, more out of annoyance than pain. Then she looked at Ian and smiled broadly. "Don't you know what it is you want most, Ian Nottingham? Or is it buried so deep in your mind that you can only guess?"  
Physically, Ian may have had the upper hand, but Adrienne was in total control of the situation. She took one knee and rubbed it slowly against the outside of Nottingham's long leg. She continued to command his gaze, her eyes sparkling as she ran her tongue suggestively over her bottom lip. "What do you want, Nottingham?" she taunted softly, "What do you want?" Moving her face a breath closer to his, "Do you want me?" she whispered, "You want to take me right here, don't you? Right now."  
Trouble was, he did. Ian couldn't form a single coherent thought. He was however, intensely aware of the silky skin of the woman he held, of the heat radiating from her, of her heart thumping against his chest. Maddening, her voice lingered in his mind as he felt the delicate warmth of her breath on his neck. Adrienne continued to tease. "So, what now, big boy? Ya gonna kill me? Huh? Ravish me, maybe?" she laughed, and that was too much for Ian.   
He closed the narrow gap between their lips and kissed Adrienne savagely. One powerful arm pinned her arm to her side and came up so that a gloved hand steadied Adrienne's head from the back. Ian's other hand held a death grip on the shoulder of her other arm. She didn't pull away, didn't resist; instead Adrienne deepened Ian's rough kiss, delightedly tutoring her aggressive suitor with her deft lips and tongue.  
By the time Ian drew away, breathless, Adrienne had brought her free hand up to Ian's face, cradling his cheek and stroking his hair. "It's good, isn't it? To get what you want? To understand it, to take it?" Adrienne whispered her query to a slightly dazed Ian.  
"What have you done?" he whispered hoarsely, looking at Adrienne as though she had crossed some unspoken rule.  
"I woke you up," Adrienne answered cryptically. She wound both her arms around Ian's neck; pulled out the band that held his hair back. The dark curls fell haphazardly about his unreadable face. Drawing one hand back, Adrienne combed her fingers through Ian's hair, then gently caressed his face. This time it was Adrienne who proffered a kiss- as Ian's had been rough, hers was soft; full, gentle, tender. It lingered on Ian's mouth, and in his mind, even after Adrienne had slipped away. 


End file.
